


Twenty Steps to Salvation

by Yokan



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries & Related Fandoms, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Mentions of Caroline/Tyler, Mentions of Klaus/Camille, Some Mikaelson family, Some angst, Some hurt/comfort, mentions of drug abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:33:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yokan/pseuds/Yokan
Summary: "He remembers what he felt like when he woke up the next morning with Caroline beside him, her back turned, a mess of blonde curls contrasting with his black sheets. Such a pretty thing on his bed, to be corrupted by his vileness, consumed by his darkness.He would trample her, he thought. Eat her whole."College!AU/AH. Mind the tags!
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Comments: 41
Kudos: 231





	Twenty Steps to Salvation

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago as a part of KC!AU week and then I took it down. But here it is again, I guess? It was originally meant to expand on the universe of a drabble I wrote, but that's also gone, so this is a complete stand-alone now, I guess. Ha! 8D 
> 
> Please, mind the tags! This has some angst and mentions of drug abuse. If this is in any way a trigger for you, please proceed with caution. I promise it has a hopeful ending (I think?).
> 
> English is not my first language, so please forgive any mistakes you might find!
> 
> I live for the encouragement, so your comments and kudos are VERY much appreciated! :)

1\. 

His eyes fly open as though a switch has been flipped in his brain and sleep has suddenly lifted off his body all at once. He looks at the alarm clock; the neon blue lights of the numbers assault his eyes. Five am.

Klaus rolls over in bed, momentarily thrown by the pale back and the blond hair beside him. His heart skips a few hopeful beats before it dawns on him that it's not her. It hasn't been her for a while. It's the wrong shade of blonde and the skin is slightly more tanned, the constellation of light freckles missing from the shoulders. It brings a bitter tang to his mouth all of a sudden.

He gets up, takes a shower, eats his breakfast and leaves. The sex is good, but he can never stomach the morning-afters. Falling asleep next to her is easy; it's waking up that really gets to him. The realization of what he's doing is harsher at five in the morning.

There’s maybe a tiny part of him that feels bad for her, which is more than he can say about most people. It's a testament to how nice a girl she is. They don't really do anything more than fuck, but somehow he can tell she's getting her hopes up, even though he's never there when she wakes up, which - if that isn't a clear sign that he's not into it, then he does not know what could be. Is he gonna have to yell at her? Show her to the door in the middle of the night? Call her by a different name? The name that always flares up in his mind when, for just a brief second, he rolls over to find a smooth back and blonde hair spilled over his pillows?

It's a shame that she's found him in such a fucked up time. That he can't bring himself to care enough to stick around. But her eyes are green, not blue. Her smiles are too easy, too generous, so it never feels like a reward, like he has to try hard just to earn it. Her hair is the wrong shade of gold 

It's just... wrong. It’s all wrong.

2.

He'd been laying on the grass, soaking up the sun and nursing the remnants of a hangover, earphones plugged in to block out the world around him. Like this, Klaus could almost pretend he was at a villa on the Amalfi Coast rather than here, which is the last place he wants to be about 90% of the time. If his mother didn't make a diploma a requirement for all her children to have access to their trust funds - and if his name wasn't on the left wing of the main building, on the department of Northern European history and half a dozen other bronze plates spread across campus - then he sure wouldn't.

He had his eyes shut, hands behind his head, legs crossed at the ankles, when the warmth was suddenly cut off. He thought it was a stubborn cloud, hiding the sun for a moment, but then he felt a nudge on his shins. Klaus' forehead creased in displeasure before he even opened his eyes, half-expecting to find one of his siblings, already mentally cursing his parents for the short interval between pregnancies that mean inconveniently short age gaps. Elijah was only a year ahead; Kol was a year behind and Rebekah, a freshman, two. Esther didn't even need to have the dean and a bunch of heads of departments and pathetic professors sucking up to her; her own children were there to spy on each other.

It wasn't a Mikaelson, though, or anyone Klaus had ever seen before for that matter. He lifted his sunglasses off his face, eyes raking over the girl's body, head to toe. Tall, long-legged and a beautiful face to go along with her nice rack. She did, however, look crossed; pursed lips and a light frown between her eyebrows.

He wondered for a moment if she could be someone he'd slept with, promised to call and then never did. It's not unheard of. Klaus tries not to make promises he cannot keep, but sometimes he's just too fucked up to even remember what he said or didn't say. He did not think he would forget that one, though. She was just his number. A lovely face like hers would've stuck.

Some of his annoyance ebbed away, but not all. He was thoroughly enjoying the sun.

She moved her lips, but he couldn't hear her. Took him a second to remove his earpods.

"Come again, love?" 

"I said, Professor Shane requires your presence in his office. Immediately."

"Whatever for?"

He didn’t have to ask, in all truth. Klaus had a paper due this morning, but he'd gone to Marcel's frat party the night before and never finished writing it. Shane would likely repeat the same speech he'd given Klaus the week before, when he agreed to offer him a deadline extension. "I'm very grateful for your family's continued support, your mother is like a mentor to me, your brother Finn was one of my favorite students, etc, etc, etc. You have until next week to submit your paper."

"Do I look like a secretary to you? I don't know, I don't care. Just go, and do me a favor to tell him to stop using freshmen to run his errands. We have far more important things to do than hunt down Mikaelsons around campus, thank you very much."

She turned on her heels and stalked off before he could ask her name.

3.

In spite of her obvious disregard for the Mikaelson family’s rule around campus, she was, as it turned out, a friend of Rebekah's. He ran into her again the next morning, while she was having breakfast with his sister at the dining hall, and then a couple of days later, at Rebekah's dorm room.

"Don't even think about it," his sister hissed.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about, dear sister.”

"You know exactly what I'm on about, Nik." Rebekah slapped him across the arm - not hard enough to hurt, but Klaus knew it was just a warning. His little sister was far more dangerous than all her older brothers; she had the deceptively harmless appearance of a prom queen, but more teeth than all of them put together. "Caroline is off limits."

"Oh?" he arched his eyebrows, not quite hiding the smirk that spread on his lips. "Is that her name?"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to make a friend here when everyone is out to hate you before they even know you?" Yes, as a matter of fact. He did know. Very well. He just never cared about it. People might think that coming into this world bearing the Mikaelson name is a blessing; it couldn’t be further from the truth. "You're not going to ruin this for me."

"Now, why would I ever do that?"

"Because it's what you do. You flirt with my friends, you sleep with them and then you throw them out like trash and they never talk to me again. I have not forgiven you for Greta yet. So keep your stupid dimples to yourself and stay away from her or I swear to God I'll send mother a full report on your _academic_ activities, _weekly_."

He rolled his eyes, gesticulating dismissively. No girl was ever worth the headache of having Esther breathing down his neck. "Fine. Have it your way, sister. She's not even that pretty."

"Tell yourself whatever you have to. She's way out of your league, anyway."

That got an outraged snort out of him. There was no such thing as someone out of Klaus Mikaelson's league.

He didn't know Caroline Forbes then.

4.

He vowed to stay away from Caroline and he kept his word. Not that it was hard. Caroline was a diligent student, while Klaus was mostly killing time, constantly testing the limits of his professors' benevolence. His ultimate goal was to figure out the absolute least he could do to still get the grades he needed in order to graduate with minimal effort. Kol was a good thermometer. His younger brother lacked his manipulative charms and was often getting failed in spite of his famous last name. 

When he met her again, it was completely by chance. 

It was an early morning for most people, but a late night for Klaus. He was too high on cocaine and something else someone slipped him - he doesn't know who, maybe Marcel, maybe that French friend of his, Thierry, who always has the weirdest shit. He still has no idea what that was, but it left him tachycardic for hours. He was too electric to go to bed. He doesn't know why he didn't head back to his room with a girl, though; more often than not, it was how he satiated his drug-induced euphoria. Instead, he put on his sunglasses when the sun came out and grabbed a large cup of black coffee.

Next thing he knows, he was running laps around the track. One second his mind was completely blank, just numb thoughts and nothingness, the next there was a girl sprinting towards him, wearing appropriate attire and timing her performance.

He ran past her twice. She only looked his way once, briefly, probably taking in his quaint state and deciding it was not worth asking. Then she kept her eyes forward, the earpods offering the perfect distraction. Klaus' heart was racing manically, but he felt like he could run a marathon just then. He'd probably drop dead by the end of it, but he'd make it to the finish line.

If Klaus believed in things such as _divine intervention_ , he'd probably think that's what their meeting was. One of those ironies that are almost unbelievable in its perfection. He was 100% fueled on caffeine and drugs, had been up for almost 24 hours and hadn't been a frequent runner since high school, but she was the one who got cramps.

Klaus skipped over to her. And then everything changed.

5.

Klaus never thought he'd see her at one of Marcel's fraternity parties, but that's where he met her the first time it happened. It might've been Rebekah's influence - his sister was quite unabashedly besotted with Marcellus. Klaus usually drew a firm line when it came to his friends hitting on his siblings, mostly because he is friends with the worst kind of people and can never put up with them when he’s sober, but Esther detested Marcellus with a passion. Klaus, never one to pass on a chance to infuriate mother dearest, granted Marcel special permission to hook up with Rebekah if he so desired - with conditions. Marcel is the only friend he somewhat appreciates, so he’d hate having to break his jaw if he hurts Rebekah. 

He'd never peg Caroline as a frat party kind of girl, but she didn't seem at all out of place. Dancing, drinking, enjoying herself with her little wide-eyed friends. Klaus is a terrific teller of character, but he misjudged her; she wasn't just the typical small town good Christian girl, begging to be ravished and shown the wonders of the world by a bad boy. There was a hint of the devil in the way she moved her hips.

Her presence at the party provided enough distraction that he barely had time to get high, but he was drunk enough that he didn't care anymore about Rebekah's threat - besides, with the way she kept undressing Marcel with her eyes all night, he had enough to blackmail her right back. He was sure they could find some common ground to work on. A friendly exchange, so to speak. 

Klaus couldn't keep his eyes off her, the way she moved in tune with the music, how she kept pulling the hem of her dress up to reveal more of her thighs. Every time she threw her head back, or that her lips parted, it sent a jolt across his body, down his underbelly, straight to his groin. 

At some point he realized she'd noticed him - and that her dancing wasn't entirely mindless. She was looking directly at him, and didn't seem uncomfortable at all with how obviously ill-intentioned his gaze was. So it wasn't a surprise when she ended the night back at his room.

"I'm not very good at his," she confessed after, giving him a look between her eyelashes that was frankly making his heart lurch, though he was doing a fine job at remaining perfectly casual.

"I beg to differ," he replied, a wolfish smirk on his lips.

Caroline smiled, her cheeks flushing beautifully. "Not _that_. I mean - _this_." She motioned her hand to the small space between their bodies on the bed. "The casual hook-up thing."

He remembers not liking the sound of that. He didn't really understand it then, but it made sense considering the path they headed down after. 

"How do you do it?" she asked.

"I don't know. I just do."

"I guess practice makes you perfect."

"Practice makes you exhausted."

Caroline laughed, and the sound seemed to connect to something deep inside his chest. So he shut her up with his mouth before it got too awkward.

6.

He remembers what he felt like when he woke up the next morning with Caroline beside him, her back turned, a mess of blonde curls contrasting with his black sheets. Such a pretty thing on his bed, to be corrupted by his vileness, consumed by his darkness. 

He would trample her, he thought. Eat her whole.

7.

It soon became obvious that he and Caroline were polar opposites. She glowed bright like sunshine while Klaus was the very darkest part of the night. She was hard-working and tenacious, full of plans and short-range goals, not to mention a whole life planned ahead of her, while Klaus was halfway through his third year with a nasty drug habit and a lifestyle that had him seeing the inside of toilet bowls more frequently than he saw the inside of a classroom.

Chaos had a calming effect on him, while routine was a slow death. He was in constant war with his demons, and when he stopped, they got too close. He didn’t act like it, but he was afraid of what would happen when they finally caught up, if there’d be anything left in their wake. 

He's not sure when it all started; probably sometime during his senior year of high school, when his mother's betrayal was uncovered and Mikael finally felt justified enough to display all the hatred he'd always harbored for the middle child he never loved. 

He had no warm feelings for the bastard son, but he did so love his cheating wife, and it was Esther's decree, as the matriarch of the family, that Klaus was not to be cast out. He'd remain a Mikaelson, even if he didn't have a single drop of Mikaelson blood in his veins. It sounded like a mercy, but it was more like a punishment. No matter what he did, how well he behaved, how perfectly he met all of Mikael and Esther's impossibly high standards, it was never good enough. Mikael never stopped humiliating him, diminishing him, making him feel worthless and small. So why bother? There was no point. He'd never be the tame adulator that Finn was, or the flawless nobleman that was Elijah, or the endearing joker that was Kol, or daddy's dearest like Rebekah. He was the family’s black sheep. The unwanted.

If the shoe fits, he might as well wear it. 

8.

After leaving the blonde in his room, Klaus goes to the gym. It's almost empty this early in the morning and Klaus has come to realize he enjoys the quietness. He used to run from that kind of environment like the plague, having spent the better part of the last five years chasing anything louder than the mayhem in his head. It's a hot day, and he's sweating like crazy, but he likes it that way. The harder, the better. 

He doesn't leave until his muscles are screaming. The pain makes him numb. He's been trying to get his life back together lately. It's not a resurgence, or a miracle. It's just - order. Control. Elijah threatened to stage an intervention because his habits were verging dangerously towards addiction. As much as he hates to agree with his brother, he wasn't completely without reason. Klaus was losing it far too often, for far too long. 

Now he just. Tries. Wakes up early, gym, library, classes, regular meals, less drugs, more water. It's... different. But not entirely bad. Not always. He's managed to find a modicum of peace in a life that had been pandemonium for almost five years. It was certainly easier before; just giving in to simple pleasures and intoxication, not thinking. But the world certainly feels more alive now. It's like coming up for air after years suffocating under water.

Kol texts to meet him for lunch. A memory suddenly springs up to life, burning through his mind in painful details. 

A girl sitting up in bed in the middle of the night. "I don't like your siblings. Actually - I don't like your family," she blurted out a confession. 

"Ok."

"Are you mad?"

"Why would I be mad? I don't like my family either."

"So it doesn't offend you that I don't like your siblings?"

He shrugged. Truth be told, he was a little drunk still. He has no love for his parents, but he's very protective of his siblings. Well, all except Finn. "I thought you and Rebekah were friends."

"We are. But she's a bitch. My bitch, but still a bitch."

He chuckled lazily. "Can't argue that." There was a pause, during which he put his palm on her naked back, marveling at all the freckles across her shoulder blades. "Why are you saying that now?"

"Because I saw Elijah being a major dick to a freshman today and Kol literally paid for one of my friends to write an essay for him."

"That makes your friend just as dodgy."

"But he didn't have a choice. Kol threatened to have him failed. That's the thing. You walk around like you own this place."

"Well, not to sound like a tosser, love, but we kind of do."

She scoffed, all indignation, sending him a hard look over her shoulder. "Well, that's wrong. Just because your parents sign checks it doesn't mean the four of you matter more than the entire rest of us."

"You have no idea how many zeros are on those checks."

"Don't be a dick."

He sighed. "Mikaelsons are an acquired taste. My siblings aren't all bad, you just don't know them. They're loyal. Honest."

"For you, they are," she said. "But have you ever seen what they're like around other people?"

"Have you seen what _I_ am like around other people?"

She went quiet for a moment. "Point taken."

He snaked an arm around her waist, pulled her back down, against his chest. "I have a rule against talking about my siblings in bed, so enough of that. Now, where were we?"

9.

He goes back to his room for a shower. The sleeping figure is luckily gone, but her glasses remain, forgotten on his nightstand. Camille is not exactly subtle. Because Klaus hardly ever calls her, is terrible at replying to her texts and has become a rare presence at parties, whenever she does end up here, she leaves something behind. Sometimes it's earrings. Sometimes a wristwatch. "Hey. I know it's late, but - did I leave my glasses here by any chance? I can't find them anywhere and I know I-"

Marcel thinks it's _cute_ , but Marcel is sappy as hell. Klaus doesn't mind it much when he is in the mood for sex, or when he misses Caroline too much, and is too proud to call. He'll need to have a talk with Camille about her forgetfulness. He just... Hates that kind of thing. This part was better before, when he was high all the time. Sobriety makes casual sex so much harder. 

Another memory. Just a few weeks after he started seeing her.

"How do you handle rejection?" she asked, her face mere inches from his. He could see the shards of green in the sea of blue.

"I don't."

She was quiet for a moment, probably waiting for him to laugh and say it was a joke. It wasn't.

"You've never been rejected, have you?"

"Not that I remember."

"Oh my God. That's so annoying."

"Not really."

"Yes, it is. You just break up with people left and right and you have no idea what you're doing to them."

"I don't _break up_. That would require a relationship, which I don't have. We just... Mutually agree to not see each other anymore."

"You sound like a tactless jerk now."

"You make it seem like it's a big deal. Like it doesn't happen every other day. It's like anything. Comes and goes. Just take it and move on."

Her eyes flickered away from him for a moment, then back, as though checking that he was still paying attention. He was. "Sometimes it's not that easy. Sometimes you get carried away and then it's hard to move on. It's still rejection."

"Harder than not moving on?" 

He still remembers the look she gave him then. Klaus was hardly the kind to have heartfelt pillow talks, much less the kind where you stare at the other person straight in the eye. But he liked looking at her, and he knew, even then, that it meant something. To enjoy just looking at someone. It felt relevant, worthy of notice. Caroline's stare, even when it was harsh, didn't make him want to turn away.

He blinks and the memory fades.

"Hey, man," Marcel says. "Your girlfriend just left," he adds, that big toothy grin of his that is way too bright for this early in the morning.

"Not my girlfriend. She forgot her glasses. Can you stop by her room and give it back?"

"Ouch. That's harsh."

"Not in the mood."

"One of those days?"

"Something like that." He takes his towel and some clean clothes. "I'm taking a shower, then I have some reading to do and I'm meeting Kol for lunch."

"What does he want?"

"No idea. Why don't you come with?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll meet you there."

10.

Klaus stops by the dining hall entrance, watching as a stream of freshman students filter out. He holds his breath for a second, wondering if he'll see her. His eyes are constantly on the look-out. But she's not there. It's a different crowd than hers or his sister's. Too colorful. He feels sick to the stomach. He never used to hang around the cafeteria at lunch time before. This much movement still makes him dizzy.

"Are you waiting for someone?" Marcel asks, materializing next to him.

"For my eyes to adjust to that much color," he grumbles bitterly, feeling like an 80 year-old man. "And people wonder why I do drugs."

Marcel laughs. "To be fair, I don't think people wonder why. They just know."

"What is it that kid used to say about us? The Lockwood boy."

"Junkie psychos, I believe were his words," Marcel says, smiling proudly. Both he and Klaus went around campus introducing themselves as junkie psychos for a month. It has a nice ring to it, plus it annoyed the hell out of Tyler. Klaus wished he could break a couple of his pearly white teeth, but Esther is good friends with Carol Lockwood. They run some charity clubs and other self-congratulatory society jerk-off circles. He'd never hear the end of it. Still, he came very close to it on several occasions. 

The way Tyler looked at Caroline... He was just asking to get acquainted with Klaus’ right fist.

"Fucking wanker," he mutters, shaking his head.

"Hey, namaste, remember? No cursing."

"Fuck off, mate." He pushes the door to the dining hall open, quickly searching for his brother. "If I can't curse then I'll just go back to my pills. It's best to OD than to not call that stuck-up arsehole by what he is."

"Shit, Klaus," Marcel says, suddenly serious. "Don't say that."

"Well, I'm a psycho, what did you expect?"

11.

The same freckled back, the same wavy blonde hair, the same easy laughter that seemed to fill his chest with an unfamiliar kind of warmth. He always felt so silly trying to find words to describe what it felt like. But it was real.

Caroline was laughing of a story he was telling from last summer, something that happened while they were all out at the Mikaelsons' Italian villa. He loved what laughing did to her face.

"I like them when you talk like that," she said. Klaus just raised his eyebrows. "Your family. When you tell me what it's like when you're together, it doesn't sound like they're all that bad. I just don't like what they make you do."

He frowned then, lost. "What they make me do?"

"How they make you feel. And then the things that you do," she explained, point blank.

Klaus sighed, rolling over to lie on his back, staring at the ceiling. "They don't make me do anything. If I sometimes -"

"Sometimes," she parroted with derision.

"Sometimes," he repeated louder. "If I _sometimes_ do drugs, which is not that bad, it's because I want to. Not because they make me."

"Right." She sat up in bed, pushing the sheets away. "Nobody ever makes you do anything. You're the king of the world. I suppose you don't think you have a problem either?"

"My only problem is this conversation right now."

Caroline laughed a hollow laugh. "I have to go."

12.

Hindsight really is the mother of all bitches. He can see all his mistakes now, oh so clearly. He knew what he was doing before, every single step of the way. He just didn't think of it as mistakes; he thought of it as choices. And good ones at that. 

He enters the dining hall and shuffles over to Kol's table. He sits down, Marcel right next to him. "What do you want?"

"It's good to see you too, big brother. You look fantastic."

"I'm not in the mood for your awful sense of humor, Kol."

"It's not humor. Doesn't Nik look great, Marcel?"

"He does, indeed."

"See?"

"What. Do. You. Want."

Kol draws the air in, and then out in a pained sigh. "Right. I have a dilemma."

"What's your dilemma?"

"Well, here's the thing. I kind of have my eyes set on a girl."

"You always have your eyes on a girl," Marcel points out.

"Not always a girl, my good friend, but you're right. Except this girl is a bit of a challenge."

"Who is it now?"

"Bonnie Bennett."

Klaus stops, regarding his brother. "Your dilemma is Bonnie Bennett?"

"Yes."

"That's not a dilemma at all."

"It isn't?"

"No. Because Bonnie Bennett will never go out with you. It's not a dilemma, it's a simple cease and desist."

"I know! I've tried all my charm, it just goes right by her."

"You have no charm, Kol. You look like a psychopath when you think you're being charming, we've had this conversation before. If that's all -"

"Nik, come on," he reaches out, placing his hand on top of his brother's to keep him from getting up. "Help me out, will you?"

"I'm curious. What exactly makes you think I'm the person to ask for advice in this situation?"

"I was wondering the same thing," Marcel remarks.

"It's not really advice I'm seeking. I need your help. In fact, I was gonna ask you to talk to Marcel, but since he's already here - perfect."

Klaus sighs wearily. Ever since he stopped with the drugs, Kol's weekly _dilemmas_ have become extremely dull. Normally Klaus would say some random meaningless thing that sounds reasonable or diplomatic enough and Kol would just do whatever he wants anyway. His brother never really seeks advice, or heeds the ones he gets, for that matter. He just likes to vent. Kol enjoys the sound of his own voice a bit too much. It's just... harder to focus and pay attention to his ramblings when he's sober.

Everyday offers a painful reminder of why he started drowning life in booze and drugs, but hardly any reward for stopping.

"Just cut to the point, Kol. What do you want?"

"Well, I was thinking. There's a party at the frat house this weekend right, Marcel?"

"Always."

"So you could invite her, personally. Like, hand her the flyer directly. Maybe to Elena Gilbert as well. They're always together, if one goes, the other will be there too, certainly."

"What makes you think they'd go if I was the one inviting them?"

"They like you."

"How do you know that?"

Kol gives Klaus a pointed look. "Nik. Tell him."

"I believe what my brother is trying to say is that girls appreciate you as a general rule, Marcellus."

Marcel beams. "Well. I know. I just wanted to hear you say it."

"Yeah, don't get cocky, mate. Anyway. Can you do that?" Kol bats his eyelids at them in a way he certainly thinks is compelling. Klaus just wants to punch his nose. He looks like a mini version of Elijah, if Elijah was perverted, dramatic and had a sense of humor.

"Sure. Nothing a bit of flirting can't fix."

"Marvelous! And..." Kol starts, stops, looking sheepishly at Klaus, who's glad just to be left out of whatever plan they come up with. "You could come too, Nik."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I don’t want to."

"When was the last time you came to one of Marcel's parties?"

Sixty eight days ago, exactly. "How the hell should I know?"

"Well, it's been a while. I was talking to Elijah -"

"Oh, bloody hell."

"He agrees that, while your new hippie lifestyle is great, you've been staying indoors way too much. It would be good for you to come out for a little while." Klaus shrugs, not really interested in indulging Kol's concerned sibling act, but then he continues. "Besides... Caroline will probably be there. I mean, if her friends go, then she'll certainly go as well."

13.

Another memory. A party, a dark basement, too much neon for his taste. Glowsticks, crazy lights, his eyeballs trembling like they're about to pop out because of some insane thing he took. He remembers seeing Caroline there with her friends, Elena Gilbert, Bonnie Bennett. Rebekah had probably been with them, but then moved on to make out with Marcel elsewhere. His sister's loyalties shift rather easily.

Caroline was laughing at something Elena said and Tyler Lockwood was there, too, looking at her as though he'd seen her naked. Klaus walked over, pointed a finger to his own crazy eyes and then to her. They all exchanged a look.

"I can see you," he said, although he can't remember what he meant by that.

"Good," Caroline replied, nodding, shouting over the music. "I’m glad you haven’t lost your sight. Yet.”

"You act like you're such an angel, but your condescension --" He cut off, losing the words and his train of thought completely. 

"Oh, something you can't wrap your brain around? That's new." It was Elena Gilbert, snorting derisively and giggling like a little girl. Rebekah hated her. Klaus had never given her two seconds of his attention, always failing to see what other guys seemed to find so interesting. She was where character went to die. Bland to the last perfectly straight hair on her head. 

Irritation crossed Caroline's face. "Don't," she snapped at her friend.

Klaus remembers something different washed over him. He couldn't quite distinguish the feeling from the drugs, but it was there, and he vaguely wondered, in a hazy, distant way, if it meant he maybe liked her more than he allowed himself to admit. But the thought escaped him as quickly as everything else that night.

He pointed at her again, taking one step closer. "I have something to tell you that you might not already know."

"Ok," she said, blinking at him in confusion but leaning in to hear anyway.

"You care," he said into her ear before turning around and walking away.

14.

Klaus keeps the sting off his face. "So?"

"I know you haven't seen her in a while."

"How would you know that?"

"Well," Kol looks at Marcel, who turns the other way. Brilliant. His roommate has been spying on him on his nosy siblings' behalf. Traitor. 

"If you're done with your whining, Kol, I need to eat and then I have things to do."

As he walks away, he hears Kol whimper _ouch_ and then Marcel saying, "Nice one, jackass."

15.

It's the same party, but the next morning.

He woke up dying. That was some mad shit they gave him that night. He was groggy and nauseated and exhausted all over. He pulled himself out of bed and dragged him body across the hallway to the bathroom. He poured all the contents of his stomach out until he felt totally empty, like even his soul had abandoned his carcass, if he hadn’t already lost it before. He lied down on the gross tiled floor for a couple of minutes until he felt it was safe to stand again and drank from the sink.

He remembered very little, and very vaguely, from the previous night. Making out with someone in a dirty corner. Leaving with Marcel. Eating something. Tacos, he thought. He hates tacos.

Someone turned off a shower and for a second there he was very confused to see Caroline wrapped in a towel, watching him with her hands on her hips. She didn't look mad, though. 

"What're you doing in the men's room?"

"This isn't the men's room."

"Oh. Shit."

She shook her head. "Last night coming back to haunt you?" Her hair looked darker all wet, but her eyes seemed brighter. Her skin looked so smooth.

"In heaps."

She smiled softly. One single drop of water ran down the side of her face, dropping off her chin and into her cleavage. Klaus followed it with his eyes until it disappeared from sight, and then he wanted to follow it with his tongue. 

"You look awful," she said.

He laughed. Here he was thinking about her breasts while she -

"Genevieve," she said.

He blinked. "What?"

"The girl you were making out with last night. Genevieve. I believe you have her number on your phone."

His brow furrowed in bewilderment. "That's... Odd." Having this conversation with Caroline felt incredibly awkward. "I don't hand out my number. Or take other people's."

"You weren't exactly in your right mind. And she may have been a little persistent with the phone thing."

"How do you know that?"

"She was talking - no, actually, raving about it at the hotdog place outside for everyone to hear. How Klaus Mikaelson took her number. And a hickey, by the looks of it."

He lifted a hand to his neck, suddenly mindful of the purple mark Genevieve - apparently - had left there. It's not the kind of thing he'd normally care about. "Yes, well. Excuse me for having a life,” he said, sounding cattier than he intended.

She huffed out. He doesn't know why he said that. He was just embarrassed, ashamed. Of all the people in the world, the one he had to run into in this awful moment of indignity was the only one that mattered. Caroline didn't even have to say anything; he could hear her thoughts.

"Stop making me out to be some clingy girlfriend taking care of your life. Do whatever you want. But excuse me if I don't like to see you so fucked up all the time. It's just - hard."

"It's hard? For you?"

"Yes, for me."

"And why's that?"

"Because - it's hard to talk to someone when they're like that." She sounded totally riled up then, but her cheeks were burning red, and he didn't know whether it was the anger or something else.

"Oh? Is that what we do? Talk?"

Caroline shook her head. "Way to miss the point." She stalked off, slamming the bathroom door behind her.

16.

He leaves the dining hall, heading towards his first afternoon class. He even knows his schedule now, it's practically a miracle. As he's exiting the building, he remembers a meeting a few months ago, right here. He was going out for a smoke, she was coming in for lunch, surrounded by her friends. They looked like they had been doing some kind of sports, all sweaty and red-faced. Her hair was tied in a ponytail on the top of her head. She rarely ever used it like that, but he liked it when she did. She has a beautiful neck. He doesn't think he ever told her that. Or maybe he did, but was too fucked up to remember.

"Hello, love," he said, a tad too sternly for someone who was trying to be casual and friendly.

He saw as her friends rolled their eyes and scurried away, leaving just the two of them. It occurred to him that they had probably talked about this - _if we run into him, don't say anything, just walk away and let me do the talking._ Things were already falling apart back then, though he did still see her, occasionally. Not nearly enough, in his opinion.

He heard them giggling like school girls as they disappeared up the stairs, saying "Do you think he's drunk yet?" as they went.

"Lovely," he said. "And you say my siblings are bad."

"My friends are judgy, but they're harmless," she replied, folding her arms across her chest.

"Let's just agree to disagree, then."

"I guess. Anyway."

"Anyway," he said, his stomach knotting as he remembered the bit of gossip he'd heard just a few hours before. "Heard you were having fun with Tyler Lockwood at the party last night."

Caroline looked surprised for a second, but then something tightened in her eyes. "Yes. So?"

Klaus felt a beast roaring inside of him. He was hoping it had been a misunderstanding of some sort and that Caroline would deny it with an indignant snort and a dismissive word about how subpar Tyler was. "So you don't deny it."

"No." 

Lockwood was lucky Klaus hadn't personally witnessed the two of them canoodling. He'd been at the party, but he left early. Tyler's night would've probably not ended in an orgasm if he hadn't.

"You've really lowered your standards. That desperate?"

There was a stiffening across Caroline's face. Anger, Klaus thought. "You're an asshole," she spat.

He could've just shut up then, stalked off to bang someone somewhere in order to work out the rage coursing through him. Instead, he schooled his features into something offensive, stucking up his chin. "I wasn't the one sucking Lockwood's dick last night."

Caroline's rage was so hot Klaus could feel the air around them simmering. "What I do or don't do is none of your business. You were doing just fine sucking face with Genevieve the other night, so why do you care?" She whirled around to leave, but then stopped, turned back, her blue eyes flashing. "I didn't suck his dick. But thanks for the input. I'll remember it next time."

Klaus felt his insides roiling, the taste of bile rising to his mouth. It made him want to take it all back.

Caroline walked right up to his face, her eyes dark, twisted with hurt and anger. "I have something to tell you that you might not already know." Klaus arched his eyebrows, prepared for the blow. "You care."

17.

Klaus takes his seat in class already knowing that his mind is going to be miles away the whole time. He's making a real effort to catch up - and, truth be told, he's quite smart when he wants to be, so it's not like it's _hard_ or anything. He just... lacks the necessary motivation.

It was so much easier to lose himself in chaos. Mayhem calls to him in a way that orderly arrangements never did. It's what being brought up by someone like Mikael will do to a person. He's not trying to make up excuses, but there's no way he'd ever turn out completely unscathed. In a sense, he did exceedingly well. It took him a while to lose it. And doing so felt almost like a relief. Like letting go. He was always going to end up broken. Getting there was simply an end to an expectation.

Rebekah keeps saying he should see her therapist. But he doesn't need a professional. He knows exactly what's wrong with him. Just about everything.

The professor starts speaking. Klaus tries to focus for two minutes before giving up and resorting to doodling on the corner of his notebook instead.

He can always just give in to temptation, of course, if it gets too hard. Go back to the fraternity, to the nameless, mostly faceless Genevieves, to doing drugs every other night, getting shit-faced and too numb to care or even remember. Maybe that's how this part of his life is supposed to go. Blurry and unremarkable, as shallow as possible so it will be easier to climb out of the grave once the appropriate time comes.

But then there's Caroline.

Klaus tells himself - as he's been doing for the last couple of months - that none of his decisions of late are about her. She's not the reason why he quit the frat, turned his back on the drugs or the partying or the meaningless sex. Well, mostly. There's Camille. She's been more or less constant. But that hasn't made her less meaningless. He feels a bit of a pang when he thinks about her because, apparently, being sober means being less of a jerk. She's way more into him than he'll ever be into her and perhaps that's something he should be more straightforward about instead of letting her kiss him into stupor. Just lay things out in the open. That's something he's never been good at. Honesty. 

This isn't about changing his entire personality for the sake of someone else. Or some plea for attention. It's just. Certain things had escaped him until recently. Until someone else made him realize it. And if that person happened to be Caroline - well. It can't be by accident when she is the epitome of lawfulness. Discipline. Resourcefulness. Virtue. Perfection.

So maybe Caroline did shift his moral compass a bit. Or a lot.

It bothered him to no end at first. It's not how it was supposed to be. _He_ was supposed to ruin _her_ , not the other way around. But Caroline Forbes is made out of something solid, incorruptible, and Klaus had never met a person he couldn't bend before. It made him intrigued. Amused. And then addicted. She should've been just a one night stand like so many others, or a booty call that would last maybe a week or two. But then she got under his skin, disrupted the very fabric of his constitution, and now she refuses to leave.

Klaus still doesn't know how to handle that.

18\. 

Their last conversation.

It was the wee hours, after a party and by some twist of fate he wasn't that fucked up, but his head was still spinning. Caroline was across the street, buying a hotdog from a food truck, and so he crossed over to her. It was polite. They hadn't seen each other in a few weeks and she asked how he was, where he'd been, if he'd enjoyed the party. The kind of thing she'd never ask him under normal circumstances. He answered, but he hated it.

Her friends wished her good night and left and it was just them. She got her hotdog and asked if he wanted some.

"No, thank you. I can't eat anything right now."

He felt the disappointment in her sigh.

"What?"

"I didn't say anything."

"No, but you thought it. What?"

She looked up at him. "Are you ever gonna stop?"

"No."

"So you're just gonna keep doing it until you get sent to a hospital?"

"That was one time."

"It was one time too many. Life is not a freaking game, Klaus."

"Maybe it is. Maybe a game is all life is."

"This is going to kill you. Haven't you realized it yet? There's a point where you have to stop or you die. You can't do this for fun like it's nothing. It's your life."

"I don't do it for fun," he said, giving her a stern look. He felt his mind clear, as though he'd suddenly become sober. Something clicked. "It's not for fun."

Caroline's indignation dwindled immediately. She took a half-step forward, as though she was going to hug him or kiss him or hit him, but she stopped. She was quiet for a long time. "You're right. I care. I shouldn't, but I care about you."

"Is that what you wanna do now? Talk?" He felt like crying, but he smiled instead, turned it into a joke. 

"Don't do this. I'm telling you that I care about you. Don't you want me to?"

Klaus stared back at her, his throat tight. "Don't. Our arrangement is fine the way it is."

"We don't have an arrangement, Klaus. Not anymore. Not for a while."

"It's probably for the best."

Something in Caroline's eyes broke. She looked down, nodding. "Is that it, then?"

"Unless you're worried you'll fall in love with me if we start shagging again?" He said like it was funny, but it wasn't. They both knew it.

Caroline threw the rest of her food in the trash can. She'd barely touched it. "Don't worry. I won't make that mistake again."

19.

Ten minutes before class is over, he's all ready to leave. Everyone around him seems to be really concentrated in taking notes. He wonders if he's missed anything important while he was spacing out, tearing memories of all the times he screwed up his life out of his mind, striking them like matches and slowly setting himself on fire. No matter. He's a Mikaelson. A simple e-mail and the professor will have all the necessary information sent to his inbox. His family has ruined him for life but he cannot say it hasn't come with perks. It's just not really worth it, most of the time.

Someone's watching him from a couple rows left. Klaus has been feeling eyes on him for hours, but he deliberately ignored it in favor of drowning in his bout of self-pity. Now that he's over that, he finally searches for the owner of the insistent stare.

A girl. Younger than him, by the looks of it. Pretty. Red hair. Feisty eyes. A smile that doesn't really leave a lot to the imagination about what she has going through her mind. There was a time not long ago that she would be a great Friday night. Naughty. Shameless. Hot. He would take her up to his room or maybe to the nearest locker room and fuck her senseless, unload all his frustration onto her. And she'd thank him for it. Now...

He doesn't even bother acknowledging her, just looks down at his desk, waiting for class to be wrapped up so he can leave.

His type now is blonde curls, so he can take her from behind or bury his face on the curve of her neck and pretend.

Cami's got the wrong shade of blonde hair. She doesn't have the freckles or the blue eyes or even the legs for days. But she knows she's not the one and she doesn't care. Or she does, but she remains hopeful, which means she remains. 

That's good enough for now.

20.

He means to go back to his room but he takes a detour halfway there. He's thinking of the only addiction he can still give in to at this point without too much hassle. Blonde hair. Smooth back. He needs to fuck something beautiful to put himself back together because today has been... _Fuck_.

He stops in front of her door, knowing that he shouldn't, that it's wrong, but that he wants to do it anyway. He's selfish like that. 

He knocks once. Twice. And waits.

When she opens the door, her eyes widen in surprise for a split-second, and then she relaxes, the lines of her face smoothing into something almost gentle.

"Klaus."

He swallows, taking her in. The light freckles across her nose. The light blonde curls cascading down her shoulders. His heart drums away inside his chest.

"Hello." He pauses. "I. Uhm. Can we talk?"

She cocks him an eyebrow, the corner of her lips curling upwards just slightly. "Oh? Is that what we do now? Talk?"

His heart sinks, and he looks down. He shouldn't have come here. Caroline is better off without him and he still has a long way to go before he can feel whole again. He doesn't know if he ever will, without her. But he's lost the right to ask for anything anymore. He loves her - that's the word, the one he's been eluding, the one that changes everything, _love_. Loves her too much to pull her into the abyss with him.

But then Klaus doesn't know how to give up. Sobriety has its costs, and one of them is clarity. 

He can give up everything. The parties. The drugs. The booze. But he cannot give her up. There isn’t an AA meeting for that. Caroline won't go away.

"I'm sorry," he says. For what, he isn't sure. For coming here. For screwing up. For everything.

The silence lengthens, becomes heavy and razor-sharp, and he's about to turn away and leave when she pulls the door open the rest of the way and steps aside. He looks at her in near astonishment, blinking. Does she really want him to...?

Caroline regards him. "I thought you'd never say it. Was it hard?"

"Impossible."

"Good," she says, waiting for him to step in before shutting the door. "It's supposed to be if you mean it. Now you can tell me all the ways you regret being an ass and what exactly is your mindblowing plan to win me back. Spare no details."

Klaus stops, sure that he must've misheard it. "I... Wasn't aware that I could... Is that something that I can do?"

"Regret being an ass or-"

"Win you back. Can I win you back?"

Caroline purses her lips, gives a slow nonchalant shrug of her shoulders. "Maybe. Maybe not."

"I love you," he blurts out. He didn't know he was going to say it until he did, and then he realizes he hasn’t been more certain of anything in many years. It comes to him like an epiphany, the sudden unraveling of a nebulous, undefined feeling that had been firmly lodged at the center of his chest for months. And as with any epiphany, it leaves him turned inside-out, but also feeling strangely lighter.

Love is awful. It's all-consuming and scary. It penetrates his system like a drug, attaching itself to his cells, as though it's as necessary to life as his next breath. It's left him questioning himself, all his beliefs, his philosophies. It's pushed him out of his comfort zone, made him obsess over things that he cannot change, things that escape his control. Love has reduced him to a something that wants, _craves_ one thing and one thing only. 

Caroline.

She smiles, a spark in her eyes. To Klaus, it feels like coming up for air. 

"That's a promising start."

**End.**

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! :)
> 
> Thanks for reading and wear your masks!


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